


How The Mighty Fall

by PrincessAmericaChavez



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, One Shot Collection, Tumblr Prompt, Whump, Whump Fic Bingo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-14 12:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessAmericaChavez/pseuds/PrincessAmericaChavez
Summary: Whump Fic Bingo prompts from Tumblr. Get ready for lots of angst, pain and comfort.





	1. Caleb & Yasha: Get Me Out Of My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warsawmouse: Caleb & the team, spacing out during conversation

Yasha hasn’t been around enough to know what ‘normal’ looks with The Mighty Nein —she’s almost certain they have no such thing as normal in the group, if she is being honest— but there are some things that still catch her attention: like the way Nott eyes her pockets, or how Beau sometimes seems to keep her eyes on the shadows,  as if she was looking for someone in particular, or how Caleb can sometimes zone out in the middle of a sentence.

Tlast one happens often,  but today it seems different. At first she thinks it’s because they’re all tired after their latest fight, but as the minutes pass and he doesn’t react at all she starts feeling familiar unease creep up her spine.

“Caleb?” She asks, eyeing him carefully.

No She repeats the question for good measure, and when she gets the same answer she softly elbows Molly to point his attention towards the wizard. Her friend’s face turns grim for a second, only quick enough for her to notice really, before he puts on his calm mask and shrugs.

“I got this,” he says, stepping forward to the wizard and raising a hand as if to strike him.

“Hey, hey, hey,” she intervenes quickly, grabbing his wrist. “What are you doing?”

“It works,” he says, nonchalant. “Worked for me, anyway.”

Yasha purses her lips. She knows as much as everyone in the circus is family, their methods are not always the best. She wasn’t around when Molly arrived, but she’d heard enough of his episodes to figure out what he’s referring to. As much as she values their no-questions-asked relationship, she might have to talk to him about it later.

“Let’s not go hurting each other, whatcha say?” Fjord intervenes with a frown, looking at them.

“It’s okay, he just does that sometimes,” Nott says. “It’s really okay. He will be alright. Right, Caleb?”

He doesn’t give any signs of hearing them, or looking at them, he didn’t even flinch at Molly’s movement.

“Is he hurt?” Jester asks, walking closer to examine him. “Does he need healing?”

“Looks fine to me,” Beau tilts her head. “Didn’t even get hit that much today. He dealt a lot of damage, actually.”

They are all over him, staring and poking and waving hands before still eyes.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Yasha sighs, pushing them all away with both hands. “Let’s give him some room to breathe.”

She grabs the wizard by the shoulders, gently, and guides him to a corner where he can sit down. 

The others stare but keep their distance.

“Hey, Caleb,” she whispers. “It’s okay. Take your time, we are here. You’re safe. Just stay with us.”

It still takes a while, but she keeps up the soft words and eye contact until he slowly seems to emerge from whatever hell he was stuck in.

“I- I’m sorry. I’m alright. I-”

“You don’t need to explain,” she nods dryly. “Just tell me when you’re ready, and we’ll go back to the others.”

He blinks at her, and Yasha can’t tell if he’s confused or relieved, but he finally gives her a shaky smile and nods. It’s still ten minutes before he’s back on his feet, and she glares at anyone who seems about to ask questions.

  



	2. Fjorester: Let December Glow In Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mamzellecombeferre: Fjorester with touching your head and feeling your temperature rise on the whump meme!

It’s been a freaking long day, fighting damn mountain giants and giant wolves and the goddamn weather itself as they make their way north through the mountains. Fjord knows this was the fastest way through, and that they had to hurry before the real winter caught up with them, but today it just seems like too much fucking work. At least, now that they’ve found a cave, they get some shelter, warmth from the fire and a good night’s rest. Things should look better in the morning. All he can think about is sleep…which makes Jester’s constant thrashing around in her sleeping sack all the more frustrating.

“Jester,” he groans nest to her, refusing to open his eyes.

Everyone else is far enough to seem unaffected by her rolling around, but Fjord is a light sleeper and this is beginning to get on his nerves.

“Jester, seriously, what’s going on?” he huffs after two more minutes of constant moving and kicking. With a heavy sigh, he opens his eyes and props himself up on an elbow to glare at her. “Can you stop moving?”

“I can’t sleep,” Jester mumbles, sounding almost as upset as he is. “I can’t… I’m just…”

“C’mon, Jess, just try.”

“I can’t, Fjord, I’m too cold,” she says, opening her eyes to look up at him. “Can we light a fire?”

“The fire is on already,” he says, trying his damn best to stay patient. “Maybe you should move closer to it.”

“Right, maybe,” Jester grumbles. “I will…”

She rolls over to get up, but doesn’t get past her hands and knees before collapsing. That sends the first alarm through him.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, reaching out with his free arm to grab her hand and help her back up. As soon as he makes contact, he pulls back with a hiss. “Damn, Jester, you’re super hot!”

“You are hot too,” she giggles, but the effort to flirt is halfhearted at best.

“I’m serious, Jester,” he says, quickly wiggling out of his sleeping sack to get closer to her. “You’re burning up.”

“No, I’m good. Tieflings are just very hot blooded. It’s okay,” she mumbles, but even as she does he can see her eyelids drooping.

He brings a hand up to her forehead and presses it softly against the blue skin. Her bangs are sticking to her face, wet with sweat, and her skin feels like his would after a too-long day under the sun. “I’ve felt your skin before, and this isn’t normal. Why didn’t you say something?”

Frowning, Jester brings her own hand up and feels her forehead. “Oh, yes, that’s a little hot,” she says without much surprise.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He insists.

“There’s never anyone to tell, the maids don’t come until the morning and I’m not allowed to go out.”

Oh shit.

“Okay, Jester, we gotta fix this. Can you heal yourself with a spell?”

She blinks at him a couple times, as if processing the information until she slowly brings a hand up to her chest and closes her eyes focusing. A few seconds pass before she opens her eyes again.

“No, I’m tapped out,” she grunts. “You were all very hurt today and I don’t like it when you are hurt, so I had to fix it. Now you are okay, but I need more spells. I should get more spells. Traveler! Can I have some more spells please?”

He shushes her as she starts raising her voice. He’s used to her rambling, but this is getting quite worrying. The fact that she has no magic left is his main concern at the moment, though.

“It’s okay. I just need to sleep and then my magic is back,” she says, words a little slurred.

He doesn’t think a whole night of this kind of fever is a good idea. Might melt her brain off. It’s like a damn frying pan.

“Lay down, I’ll go get some cold compresses,” he instructs, as he helps her back into her sleeping sack.

“Don’t go!” She whimpers, grabbing at his wrist. “Don’t go, Fjord, please! I’m sorry! I don’t want to be alone again!”

“No, Jester, I’m not—I just—” He can’t leave her, not when she’s looking at him like that. She’s never seemed so terrified, not even when fighting horrible monsters. He looks around, finds Beau sitting by the cave’s entrance, keeping watch. “Beau! Beau!”

It takes her a couple attempts to catch her attention but once she comes over it takes her one glance at Jester to get a good idea of what’s going on. He sees the young monk begin to panic a little.

“Should I wake the others?” she asks, her voice a low whisper.

“No, better not have too many people around. She’ll get tense. Just bring some cold pads for her head, okay?”

“Yes. Yes. Cold pads. Got it,” she stutters before hurrying away.

A few minutes later she’s back, with snow covered clothes that resemble the color of her robes. He presses them against Jester’s forehead and is pleased to see a relieved look cross her face.

“There ya go,” he coos softly, brushing damp hair away from her face.

“Thanks Mom,” Jester smiles, her eyes closed and her breathing suddenly even.

Beau shoots him a pained look.

“It’s alright,” he reassures her. “She’ll be fine. It’s just a fever.”

“But-”

“It’s okay, Beau, really. Just go back to bed. I’ll be keeping watch tonight.” No way in hell is he going to sleep while Jester is this sick.

“No way, I’m staying with you.”

“You need rest. If she’s still sick tomorrow, we’ll need all our strength to figure this out. Now go, I’ve got this.”

It still takes some convincing before Beau agrees to sleep and then it’s just him, the howling winds, and Jester’s mumbling. He tries his best not to listen to her words, knowing she might not be sharing this if she was in her right mind, but some of it still sticks to his mind and makes his stomach twist into painful knots. She thinks she’s talking to her mother, telling her stories about her adventures, about how much she loves her new friends, about how sorry she is for the prank that sent her away.

About two hours later he runs out of cold pads. He sends her a quick look, to make sure she’s still sleeping and that his absence won’t be an issue, then gets up and rushes to the cave’s entrance to dampen the clothes on the snow again. As he is coming back in, he sees something that nearly makes his heart stop: a tall cloaked figure, standing over Jester, bending down and stretching a hand towards her face.

“Hey! Hey! What are you doing!” He calls, as he runs forward. In the instant that it takes him to get to them, every terrifying scenario crosses his mind: a thief, a sprit, an assassin sent by the lord that wants her head. Before he can reach them, the campfire flickers and in a blink the man is gone.

Fjord drops to his knees next to Jester and quickly brings his hands to her face, her neck, her chest, trying to find some kind of injury, something missing, something  hurt. Instead, he notices her skin isn’t as hot as before, still a little too warm but much better.

“Fjord?” She opens her eyes lazily. “What’s going on?”

He doubts for only an instant before smiling reassuringly. “Nothing, darling, you’re good. Fever’s giving in, finally.”

“Hmm, good, he came,” she says, closing her eyes again. “I knew he would.”

He’s still putting the pieces together when she falls asleep again in his arms, a more peaceful sleep than before, finally restful without fearful words or tossing around. He stays awake by her side, just in case, searching for signs of the cloaked figure in the darkness.


	3. Beau & Molly: And I've Got Arrogance Down To A Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> deviluna: For the bingo thing: Beau trying to be subtle while leaning against objects to stay upright or Molly becoming unusually clumsy and fumbling simple tasks
> 
> warsawmouse: Beau, trying to be subtle while leaning against things

It’s subtle at first, nothing you would notice unless you were _really_ paying attention, but Molly has always had an eye for this sort of thing. It’s what made his card reading trick so delightful to others, he could read them in a split second and figure them out in two: who was grumpy today, who was in love, who was gullible (sorry, Jester), and who was fucking trying to act chill as they heavily leaned on the nearest object available, Beau.

She’s moved from the nearest rock, to the closest tree, to the cart, to Yasha who is now pretending not to be holding up most of the monk’s weight. Could be flirting, Molly thinks off-handedly, if there’s one thing Beauregard isn’t is subtle when it comes to her intentions towards his friend, but there’s a trend there, and an awkward bent to her waist that proves his point.

“Hey, unpleasant one, let’s go get that monster head before it starts smelling even worse! I wanna get paid!”

If she knows what he’s up to, she makes no sign of it, but she also doesn’t move.

“Pretty sure Yasha and Jester are the strongest, maybe they should handle it,” she says instead. Yasha gives her a look that’s exactly half-way between annoyed and amused, but before she can complain Jester is talking excitedly and asking her to come over. Molly sees her move forward and how Beau, as soon as she loses support, switches positions by setting her staff in front of her and casually leaning on it.

_Ah, there it is._

“Why are you looking at me like that, obnoxious one?” She asks, arching an eyebrow. “Got blood on my face or something?”

“Nah, you look fine. You know, for you,” he shrugs, walking closer. “You do sound a little tense, though. Everything alright?”

“Why?” She snorts. “You worried about me or something, man? Because I pretty much took that thing down on my own while you got your ass kicked, so I’m pretty sure I’m good.”

“Mhmm,” he tilts his head with a grin, then sweeps his foot under her staff.

She falls forward, losing her support, and barely catches herself before face planting on the dirt. He hears a grunt.

“You asshole!” She swings at his head with the staff, and he takes it. He’s distracted with something else: he thought it might be her ankle that was hurt, but it’s not it’s-

The staff whacks him on the head with barely any strength since its wielder stops mid-swing to double over and clutch her ribs. Another pained grunt escapes her, and Molly has to fight off a pang of guilt.

“You are hurt,” he says, accusing, as he steps forward to help her stand.

“Took a few blows. I’m fine, it’s none of your business,” she huffs, pushing him away with her free hand.

“Bullshit,” he mutters, walking around her to put a hand on her shoulders. He pulls of her to take her weight and she doesn’t even fight him back this time. “You broke your ribs.”

“Just bruised,” she grumbles. “It’ll heal.”

“It’ll heal much faster if you tell Jester to help you with it.”

“She’s almost out of spells already, and we gotta make our way out of this damn forest, man. Can’t have her run dry on us like this. Not safe.”

“I’m sure it’ll be alright. She can do one more spell.”

“If she goes down we are screwed,” she insists. “She can’t help us, and I can’t…I can’t heal her if she goes down.”

“Hey, dumbass, she’ll be fine, okay? We’ll look after her. But we can’t do that if you’re a liability. As much as it pains me to say it, and believe me it does, you’re our best fighter aside from Yasha maybe. We need you on your feet, not falling on your face with pain. You’re not keeping anyone safe like this.”

She looks up at him, face a mix of pain and anger. When that mask falls, though, just for an instant, he can see something else behind it: fear, surprise, shame, so much youth it almost seems unfair. He gets his first glimpse at her vulnerabilities, and for his trained eyes it says a lot.

“Fine,” she huffs, looking away to hide her face from him, though it’s too late for that. “I’ll tell

Jester to heal me up.”

“Good,” he sighs. “Then you can go back to being just unpleasant instead of unpleasant and stupid.”

“You are a jerk,” she grumbles, still not meeting his eyes.

“I know, we’ve got that in common,” he says quietly as he helps her towards where the cleric is. _Maybe we’ve got more than that in common_ , he adds in his head. He’s not sure how much he likes the idea.


	4. Fjorester: Burn Everything You Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous: Angsty whump bingo Fjorester with touching clothes and hand coming away bloody (preferably if jesters the one who's hurt ;) )

Going West was a bad idea and Fjord wants to kick himself over and over again for suggesting it. It’d seemed like a good idea to leave the Empire for a while, at least until things calmed down, but as soon as they left the crown-protected lands it’s all been insane. He was expecting something resembling the Menagerie Coast, but here it’s closer to No-Man’s Land.

They haven’t had a moment of rest in three days, they aren’t nowhere close to where they want to be, and if these random robbers keep appearing on the road every few hours they sure aren’t going to make it further West any time soon.

What pisses him the most, though, is that they would’ve taken these guys out in a blink two days ago, but now they are exhausted and sleep deprived. Molly misses two out of three attacks he attempts, Beau can barely dodge arrows anymore, Nott and Caleb are just doing the best they can to stay alive and Jester is sticking to her cantrips to save her energy for her last few spells. And Fjord—well, yeah, he’s down for the count right now, with three arrows sticking out of his right thigh.

Jester hurries towards him, hands out stretched and glowing but he waves her off. “Don’t waste spells.”

“That’s so stupid. It’s not a waste, Fjord. I still got one and you are very hurt.”

He wishes he could complain, but the pain is blinding, and he’s come to know his own endurance enough to figure out he’s one more blow from going down for real. Jester’s double keeps one of the guys distracted while the others fight two more, but they seem to have it all under control.

“Alright,” he huffs, as Jester steps forward. He tries not to grunt as she pulls the arrows out, but a scream still escapes his throat.

“Sorry, sorry,” she mutters before casting the spell.

The pain disappears, and he sighs. “Thanks, Jester. Don’t know where we’ll be without you.”

“Dead, probably,” she replies, and her playfulness is tainted by worry.

Before he can try to reassure her, the fight seems to have stopped around them. He hears his companions panting as they gather themselves.

“One, two…we are missing one fellow,” Molly says, looking around. “Better find him before he—

His words are cut short by a loud bang that resonates across the woods as if thunder had struck right next to them. They all flinch and cover their ears as they look around, trying to find the source of the sound. It’s not hard to find.

On a hill, barely a few feet away, stands the third robber, the one that Jester’s double had been taunting. He is shaking and looking at them, eyes half furious and half horrified. In his stretched out hand there is something Fjord has only seen once before in the far off lands of Marquet: a gun. A smoking gun.

“Stop him!” He shouts as the man reloads with shaky hand, but before he can shoot again, Caleb’s fire ball hits him square in the chest and drops him.

The others rush towards him, to make sure the robber is down for good, but before Fjord can follow something stops him cold.

On the hill, next to the man, Jester’s duplicate disappears at the same time as he hears her squeak next to him: “Shit.”

He turns around, just in time to see Jester, doubled over herself, pulling her hand away from her stomach. Her fingers are soaked in a blue liquid, dark as ink.

“Jester—”

She falls to her knees and he barely manages to catch her, wrapping his arms around her. He calls her name but gets no answer. She’s conscious but slipping away quickly. He distantly hears himself calling for the others as he lays her down and gingerly searches her body for the… the wound.

There’s a hole in her stomach, through and through, ripping her corset with a well that is now pouring dark blue blood.

“Jester, c’mon darling, stay with me,” he whispers as the others rush forward.

“Does anyone have a healing potion?!” Caleb asks, voice trembling, even if they all know the answer. After so many exhausting days, they don’t.

“Beau, the kit- the healing kit!” Molly urges.

“I know, I know, I’m on it,” the monk huffs, but her hands shake as she searches her bag for it. “I- I don’t know how to treat this sort of- I’ve never seen a wound like this…”

“Just stop the bleeding,” Molly insists.

Fjord watches, frozen, as Beauregard wraps a tight bandage around Jester’s waist. The girl winces in pain, and he instinctively grabs her hand for support. She squeezes his fingers tightly enough for it to be painful, but he doesn’t let go.

“Hey, Jess, stay with me, okay? We’re gonna fix this.”

“How?!” Nott whines, and he sends her a death glare because that is not the right question. There _has to_ be a way. There’s always a way…

“I can help,” Yasha says slowly, stepping forward. “I just… I need a moment with her. Alone.” No one intervenes as the dark woman grabs Jester by the arms and stands up holding her. Only when he gets a look from Yasha does Fjord realize he hasn’t let go. He doubts. He doesn’t want to leave Jester alone. She wouldn’t want to be alone.

“It’ll be alright. I promise,” Yasha says, her voice smooth and calm as ever.

With a heavy heart, Fjord forces himself to let go and watches them both disappear into the dark forest.

“What the hell was that damn thing he had?” Molly huffs, voice vicious with anger. “How can a bloody thing like that exist at all?!”

The others agree, talk to each other, try to ease the pain by swearing and yelling. Fjord just watches the forest, dark as ink, as her blood that is still painting his hands ocean blue.


	5. Nott & Molly: I Know This Hurts, It Was Meant To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous: Apologizing before they pass out. For the nott and molly anon ask.

Nott really doesn’t like it when they split into teams for missions, but she really really, _really_ doesn’t like it when she has to go with someone other than Caleb. But everyone insisted that he was needed with Beau’s team so that they could both fight in the dark, and that Nott was needed here so she could sneak into the bad man’s office and steal the paperwork they need.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe,” Molly assures her, and his sharp smile is very not reassuring. She doesn’t want to make small talk as they wait to get into the room, but as they keep watch outside the building he fills the silence.

“You don’t have to worry, you know? I won’t tell them what you were up to the other day.”

“You won’t?”

“Nah, I’m sure you won’t be doing it again.”

“I won’t.”

“Did I ever tell you I am very good at readying people?”

“You are?”

“Yeah, and I can tell when someone is a good person or a shitty person. Like what we talked about, the other day, remember? And I am pretty sure you are a good person. You just got a few… a few things that you gotta work on. We all do.”

“Oh- Okay. If you say so.”

“I do,” he nods. There’s a long silence, when she thinks the conversation will be over now. She’s used to Caleb’s long quiet times. He does add one more thing after a long while though: “You can trust me to watch your back. I’ll keep you safe.”

She makes a sound but doesn’t really reply. She’s not sure she believes him. Luckily, a couple minutes later the bad man leaves and they can go in. She unlocks the door and the go in, but once they reach the office she gestures for Molly to stop.

“There could be traps,” she says. “Wait here.”

She unlocks the door and goes in, as quietly as possible. She takes her time searching for traps, both because she wants to be throughout and because she prefers this time to be alone.

There’s a few weird sounds outside of the door and she figures Molly must be getting impatient, so she finally hurries up a little in her search and then goes to the door. What she finds is… not what she was expecting. The tiefling is struggling quietly against a cloaked man, who holds a knife against his neck and keeps trying to push it into the circus man’s throat. Molly looks at her from the corner of his eye. She thinks she sees an instant of panic cross his face right before he kicks the man way.

“Go in, go in,” he rushes her, pushing her back into the room and closing the door.

There’s a few slashing sounds on the hallway while Nott is still trying to recover her breath. With shaky hands, she grabs her crossbow and points it to the door. As soon as it opens, she screams and shoots —luckily missing Molly by half an inch.

“Shit, sorry,” she says quickly, rushing forward.

“S’okay,” Molly huffs, but he’s standing funny against the wall and his clothes look dark and bloodied.

“What was that?!”

“An assassin,” Molly groans. “Looks like we are not the only ones interested on this fellow’s business.”

“Oh, crap, then we should get out of— Molly?!” Nott closes the distance between them when she sees him collapse to the floor, leaving a bloody trail down the wall.

Once she gets closer, she sees it: the hilt of a knife sticking out of Molly’s stomach. She goes to pull it out.

“Don’t!” Molly stops her, without opening his eyes. “Poison’s bad enough but I’d rather not bleed out too.”

“Poison? Oh, no. Oh, no. Molly, what do we do?!”

“I- I don’t know… You gotta get the others… get Jester…”

“But I can’t leave you here!”

“Can’t carry me either. And I’ll be fine. I’ve got my swords.”

“But what if you pass out?!”

“Then you better hurry,” Molly opens his eyes and gives her a smile, surprisingly soft, almost resigned. “You’ll have to go without me, kiddo. Sorry, I- I can’t come with to- to look after…”

His head falls forward before he even finishes the phrase and Nott is already shaking him, trying to wake him up. She can’t leave. She can’t just- He’ll die if she goes get the others.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Wait. She has a potion. She brought a potion! It was for Caleb, and she doesn’t like using it on someone that isn’t him, because Caleb could still get hurt and die if she doesn’t have a healing potion on her, but Molly…she can’t let him die either. She can’t. He is—she realizes suddenly—her friend too.

She pulls the knife out, afraid the wound will close around it, then immediately pours the liquid into Molly’s mouth. A few seconds pass before he gasps and opens his eyes, staring at her with an expression that is either surprised or terrified.

“N- Nott?”

“Hey,” she smiles breathlessly. “You can’t die, you’re not one of the grumpy people.”

He tries to laugh but it comes out pained. “I’ll have to take your word for that.”


	6. Caleb & Jester: When The City Goes Silent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> voidpants: jester and caleb (shippy or not, whatever's fine) with the hand shaking one?

Something is not right, and Jester can tell. It’s actually pretty, pretty obvious and she wonders how no one else has seen it. Probably because they are all tired from fighting giant monsters all day long, probably, but she was there fighting too, and she can still see the way Caleb’s hands are trembling under the inn’s table.

She could say something, just ask him what is wrong, but she doesn’t think that would be a good idea. She’s not stupid, she can see how hard Caleb is trying to hide it, looking at the others as if he was paying attention to the conversation, being very quiet probably to hide any other shaking that his voice could be doing, keeping his hands hidden between his knees. Saying something would be funny, put him on a spot and make him talk about what the hell is wrong… but this time she doesn’t want to go for that option.  It feels wrong, and Caleb has been so nice to her all this time, even if he’s still stinky, it wouldn’t be fair.

Jester has another idea, though. So as soon as she sees the others distracted, she leans in closer to Caleb and says, “Hey, could you do me a favor?”

Caleb blinks at her, clearly surprised, and takes a very long moment to answer, as if he was trying to remember how to use his words. “What do you need?”

“Well,” she tilts her head, “I wanted you to draw me in my sketchbook.”

“M-me?”

“Yes!” She smiles. “See, I could do it, but I don’t have a mirror and I really want this to be a very pretty drawing for The Traveler because he really helped us today, you know? And you are always writing things from one book to another, I have seen it, so you have very good hands for that, you know?”

“I- I don’t think that’s exactly my specialty,” he mumbles, not making eye contact.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t have to be perfect. I’m sure he’ll like it if you just try your best! And I will be very still, so you can copy me. Please, Caleb, please, please, please!”

“Alright, alright, just don’t be so loud,” he sighs.

Clapping with excitement, she pulls out her sketch book and her pencils and sets them in front of him on the table. He doesn’t bring his hands up yet; she figures they are still shaking. She turns and gives him a view of her in profile with her best dignified pose.

“Is this good?” She asks, looking straight ahead.

“Uh- Ja. Ja, I guess,” Caleb says quietly as he grabs the pencils.

She can hear the pencil scratching the paper as he draws. She’s careful not to look at him, not to move too much. It’s usually hard being this still, especially when she has so much energy in her bones, but from a very young age she actually learnt how to be very still, very quiet, pretend like she wasn’t there. It’s not her favorite thing in the world to do, but she’s good at it.

Jester smiles as she hears him draw. She can actually tell by the sound that his movements have become softer, less shaky. She knew it would work! That’s why her mother taught her how to draw in the first place, so that she could distract her mind when she was upset or lonely or overwhelmed by things. Her mother knew it would make her happy, and it really did. The few minutes she spent sketching were the only times were her mind was very quiet and all her energy focused on a single spot, and the world didn’t seem so fast and scary for a while. It was just her, and her paper, and her pencils.

She knows that’s what Caleb needs too, sometimes, to be alone, but in a group like this it is hard and, even if he got to be alone, she has a feeling that Caleb’s mind is not a very happy place to be at alone. This way, at least maybe he can fill his thoughts with other things for a while.

“I think it’s done,” he announces after a few minutes. His voice is steadier, softer. “I’m sorry it took too long, and I don’t know if it’s very good.”

Jester grabs the book back and gives it a long look. “It’s very good, Caleb! I knew you would do it!”

It really is very good. It could use some touches here and there for realism, and it could use a lot more funny details (she would have given herself a mustache or something  and then that would have really been good art), but there is talent there nonetheless.

“Thank you, Jester,” he says quietly, and the way he says it makes it clear that he’s not thanking her for the compliment. He actually looks her in the eyes and everything for a second, then looks back down at his hands that aren’t shaking anymore.

“Technically, Caleb, I’m the one that should be thanking you. I mean, technically, because really you helped me with the drawing and it’s very, very good. So thank you,” she says nonchalantly. Then sends him a confidant smile and quietly adds, “but you are welcome.”

She gets half a smile in return, and her heart grows with pride because it’s so hard to get him to smile or show any kinds of happiness unless you are giving him new books. She really likes that she got to make him smile for a moment.

“Okay, I am going to bed now because monster killing is so tired. But you can ask for my sketchbook whenever, you know, if you want to practice. Just, like, not if I am using it because it would probably be very awkward if we both tried to draw in it at the same time, you know? Oh! But maybe we can buy you one for you and then you can draw too! You could even talk to the Traveler!”

“Maybe, maybe,” Caleb concedes. “I will let you know…”

“Okay, you tell me if you wanna use it again, okay?” She asks, putting a hand on his shoulder as she stands up. Then, she does a thing she’s seen Molly do with others and presses a kiss on the top of Caleb’s head. Her mom did that too, when she was feeling sad.

 “Good night, Jester.”

“Good night, Caleb!”

  



	7. Widomauk: Take One For The Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous: caleb and molly: becoming giggly from bloodloss or high fever (preferably if molly's the giggly one ( ˘ ³˘) ty bby)
> 
> anonymous: widomauk, becoming giggly from blood loss or high fever?

Caleb knew —he  _knew_ — that splitting up was a bad idea. Terrible idea, really. Being alone for a long time, he’d learnt the hard way that there is strength in numbers and, as much as this little band of lunatics drives him insane most of the time, they are stronger together. Now, he’s stuck here with the loud one in a cave in the middle of nowhere and they’ve been fighting freaking undead corpses for the last two hours and he is exhausted.

“That- That sucked,” he huffs when they finally get a chance to breathe.

“It was  _a little_ funny,” Molly says, a few feet away.

“It was not funny!” Caleb corrects, annoyed. “I do not find it funny.”

Molly laughs and Caleb can’t resist rolling his eyes at him. He tries not to be angry, though, because he knows the only reason he’s alive at the moment is the circus man covering him from the creatures during the fight. He is thankful for that, so he just sighs and dusts himself off. “We should go back to the others,” he says, making his way towards the cave’s exit. “This place is terrible, don’t think we’ll find much more here.”

“It’s definitively terrible,” Molly snorts, walking behind him. “They should get a new decorator. Or more undead, maybe, that would be cool too.”

“That would not be cool.”

“I think it’s hilarious. I mean, what are the odds…  _undead_ in the one freaking cave we go into? And… hah… and they were bloody strong for dead people… haha… I can only hope when  _I am_ dead I’ll be that strong…”

“You are weird,” Caleb sighs, still walking. “Hurry up, I want to be out of here.” That earned him a loud chuckle that echoed through the cavern. Bristling, he turned around, ready to yell at the man for possibly drawing more attention to them, just in time to see him fall to his knees.

“ _Scheisse_.” Caleb stalks to him, grabs him by the shoulders and helps him half up, just in time to see his shit is tainted with dark purple blood. “You are bleeding.”

Molly laughs again and this time a nervous shiver runs down Caleb’s back at the sound.

“That’s what I do, in case you haven’t noticed,” Molly huffs, falling back and sitting down. 

“Ja, ja, with your swords,” Caleb huffs, “but this is a lot of bleeding, a lot of blood.”

“It’s fine, hah, I’ve got enough of it to spare, apparently.”

“You do not.”

Slowly, he helps the man to lean against the wall, eyeing him carefully. His eyes are shit in the dark, but even like that he can notice the darkness on his clothes and his fingers find sticky warmth as he touches Mollymauk’s chest.

“I- I- I don’t have healing potions.”

“That’s fine, we’ll just tell Jester… she’s- she’s not gonna like it, but well…” Molly giggles, his words already starting to slur.

“Jester is not here. She’s not even- I don’t know how to get to here in time.”

“S’alright, s’alright, it’ll be fine,” Molly laughs.

“No, no, we have to hurry,” he says. “C’mon, up.”

He pulls Molly up on his feet and shoulders his weight, which is awful, his legs are shaking immediately and he has to focus on putting a foot ahead of the other to keep moving, but slowly they move forward.

“You know, I hope we don’t find any more trouble,” Molly chuckles. “That would be so bad, hah! You’re just squishy, we’d be fucked, hah!”

“We’ll be  _fine_ ,” Caleb grumbles. “I’ve got magic. I’ll protect us.”

“Do you think I’ll turn into a zombie if I die here?” Mollymauk laughs again, but there’s an edge of panic to the sound he makes that sends another wave of panic through him.

“You are not dying here, because that’s stupid and because I’m not  _letting you_ die on me right now.”

“I’m touched,” Molly snorts.

“Don’t be,” Caleb deflects, looking away, still struggling to put one feet ahead of the other, trying not to think of how he’s willing to risk anything to get this loud weirdo out of here alive. “If you die, Jester would kill me.”

Molly laughs, loud and maniacally, and all Caleb can do is push forward a little faster.


	8. Fjord: Sugar, We're Goin' Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warsawmouse: Fjord, apologizing right before passing out

Fjord does the math in a blink. They are not gonna make it, not like this at least. The freaking necromancer has been throwing death rays or something out of his damn finger tips, and there’s goddamn zombies everywhere, and then the bunch of evil idiots  _following_ the necromancer and getting into the fray. It’s all too much for them, they shouldn’t have taken this job.

They’re all gonna die unless they turn this thing around. Jester went down twice already, and he spent both his potions on bringing her back up. He shields her with his body as she recovers, pushing zombies back with the falchion and struggling to dodge the necrotic spells that are flying around the cave. One hits Molly and sends him down immediately, and it’s up to Beau to keep the living death in line. Caleb’s fire helps, but he’s also busy hiding behind a bunch of rocks trying to keep himself alive. Nott is… somewhere, he hopes, sneaking around to get in. If this necromancer asshole doesn’t kill them all first. 

Oh, shit, would they come back as zombies if he does?

“Fuckin’ dammit,” he hisses as he sends his spell towards him, Hold Person, because he remembers how freaking useless it made him back at the manticore’s lair, and because he needs to stop this fucker if his friends are going to have a chance at surviving. One more necrotic spell from him, and they might be fucked.

Unbelievably, it  _works._ The man freezes mid incantation and stays there, still and silent finally. 

“Yeah!” Fjord smiles, right before an arrow sinks into his leg. He groans doubling over and hears Jester call his name behind him. “I’m good, I’m good. Still standing,” he tells her, as he pushes another man away with his falchion. This one, turns out, is alive. Or  _was._

Two more arrows sink, one in his arm, one in his ribs, and he barely manages to deflect the next sword coming down on him.

Behind him, he feels Jester scramble back up to her feet and send a guiding bolt towards one of the nearest assailants, getting him off his back. 

“Thanks,” he breaths out. Over his shoulder, he sees her hands lightning up with that warm light that he’s learnt to recognize as her healing magic. “No, no, no, Jester, I’m fine. I’ve got this.”

“But-”

“I’m good. Molly’s down, go to him.”

She sends him a conflicted look, bordering in tears.

“I’ll cover you,” he promises. “Go!”

“Okay!” Jester squeaks before running away. He sends a spell towards the men closing in on her as she makes her way to the opposite side of the cave. 

Another arrow sinks between his ribs and this time he nearly loses hold of the spell that’s keeping the necromancer in place, just barely catching himself in time to maintain it.

Two more swords falling on him. He deflects one, takes a hit from the other to his arm.  _Focus._ Jester is almost there, he kicks a man away and blasts the zombies nearest to Molly to open a path for her to get there. Another arrow, this time to his back. Shit. Beauregard is closing in on the necromancer, if she takes him out, this all ends.  _Focus._ He has to keep the spell going. Molly wakes up in Jester’s lap and gasps for air. Good. A crossbow shoots from the darkness and sinks into the necromancer’s frozen form. A zombie falls on Fjord and as he struggles against its rotten teeth his mind is clinging to that spell, to keep the man still long enough for the others to end this.  _Focus._ He kicks the zombie away, starts getting back up, keeps his eyes on the man and Beauregard swinging her staff at him. One more arrow sinks right into his stomach and he-

“Fjord!” Jester’s running towards him, but even as she does he knows she won’t make it. 

He falls to his knees. Another arrow sinks right next to the first one. The edges of his vision blur. He sinks. 

_Focus._

_Focus._

_Focus, dammit._

_Fo-_

Right before the world goes dark, he sees the necromancer move away, just in time to block Beau’s attack.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles right before his head hits the floor. “Sorry…”

He failed them, he lost it, he couldn’t-


	9. Pikelan: Former Heroes Who Quit Two Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonyous: Spacing out in a conversation and needing to regain focus pikelan.

There are three things Pike’s learnt over the course of the past year.

First, she learnt that no matter how strong she becomes, how much armor she wears and how many monsters she’s killed, there are things she cannot fight. She can’t fight the demons of their past, she can’t fight the passage of time, she can’t fight the nightmares that some nights wake her up screaming.

Second, she leant that no matter how powerful she becomes, and how many people she’s saved, and how many regard her as the most powerful healer in Exandria… somethings she cannot heal with magic. She can’t heal the empty spot next to Vex’s right shoulder, or Keyleth’s bleeding heart, or Percy’s lingering darkness.

Third, she’s learnt that she doesn’t give a damn, because she will fight the gods themselves and exhaust every drop of her divine magic to see Scanlan Shorthalt smile.

Scanlan, who was always quick with a joke and a cheeky song, who was always looking after her while she tried to protect everyone else, who she loves too much to be fooled by his shallow smiles and half-hearted efforts to convince her he’s alright.

It doesn’t take a genius to see that he’s not doing okay, especially when it does this: spacing out halfway through a phrase and stare into the distance, like his life is replaying right in front of his eyes. Well, not his entire life, Pike thinks, but a particular moment. 

“Oh,  _Scanlan,”_ she coos softly, brushing his hair off his face. “Hey, come back to me, baby,” she says looking into his eyes, trying to catch back his attention. 

_Shit._

Pike has an idea.

“Hey, hot stuff, you better come back right now because I’m feeling very, uh, in the mood for some, uh, Scanlan action.”

Some times, Pike has stupid crazy ideas when she’s nervous. 

So she kisses him, hard and wanting and more than a little desperate to get her man back, until his lips begin to respond to her and his hands hold her waist and he’s suddenly back here with her, present and conscious. He embraces her tightly, but even as he picks up the pace he lets her take the lead, he’s still shaking against her chest, breathing heavy. 

A few moments pass, minutes really, and she  _maybe_ gets a  _little_ distracted with the damn good kiss, but eventually she pulls back and finds his eyes, alert and present once more.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hey,” he smiles back, bright and honest. “I- uh- I don’t know what I did to deserve  _that,_ but I really gotta do it more often.”

Pike winces.

“Let’s… not.”

His face falls a little and she instantly regrets it.

“I’m sorry, beautiful, I just got a little distracted. I’ve had a lot in my mind lately.”

“I know, I know,” she lets him have his lie, because he will talk to her when he’s ready, “but I miss you when you go into that big head of yours, I’m afraid you’ll get lost in there.”

“My head is not  _that_ big! It’s normal big.”

“It’s a little big,” she laughs, hooking her arms around his neck again. “I like it.”

The kiss he presses against her lips this time is almost chaste, and then he pulls back and sinks his head on her shoulder. She holds him tighter, closes her eyes and tries to breathe.

She can’t fight this, she can’t heal this, but she will mend his broken heart, one kiss at a time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Huge thanks to Allegra1300 for the proofreading help!
> 
> Come talk to me on [my Tumblr!](http://princessamericachavez.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Maybe buy me a coffee if you want?? <3 (link on tumblr because I took it out of here in case it violated the terms or something like that???)


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